No Time For
by Lilac Summers
Summary: The TARDIS is being naughty, with all of time at her fingertips imagine the blackmail potential! 3 chapters: No time for Tedium, No Time for TV, No Time for Trespassers. now officially complete.
1. No Time for Tedium

**No Time for Tedium**  
>Author: Lilac Summers<br>Pairing: Ten/Donna, TARDIS  
>Rating: PG13, implied naughtiness, language<p>

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><p>He was in the library, spending a lazy day reading while Donna took what she called a "me day" - which, from what he could gather, consisted of epic-length baths, face masks, redoing her nails, and lounging around in pajamas reading magazines.<p>

That was fine. Just fine. Great time to catch up on some reading. He could entertain himself, no problem. He wasn't bored. Nope, nyet, nein. Not one bit. Regardless what Donna claimed, he _could _spend one day not running for his life. Absolutely. Good to rest the brain every once in while, even.

Damn...but he _was _bored.

Bored bored bored bored bored.

Bored.

Then a throaty whimper broke the silence, so close to his ear that he dropped his book and fell off the couch with a confused "Donna?"

But Donna was not in the room, though the voice that had startled him rose in volume.

_"Yessss, oh god," _came from a disembodied Donna.

He stood up quickly, sonic in hand, turning a quick circle to peer at corners. "Donna?"

_"ohhhhhhh..."_

"Uh, Donna, did you manage to find the invisibility gun? How many times have I told you not to-"

_"oh, fuck...sooo goood_"

The Doctor blanched at the unexpected language, and the satisfied groan that followed it. Something told him that if Donna _had _found the invisibility gun, she'd be more likely screaming at him in rage than practicing her dirty talk.

"You're not invisible, are not a ghost, and are not in the room in any way, are you Donna?" asked the Doctor, just to cover all his bases.

His answer was more panting, punctuated by fluttery "_oh_"s.

The Doctor pulled at his tie awkwardly, feeling increasingly nervous and...warm, yes, very warm all of sudden. It rather sounded as if Donna was right in the middle of...

His eyebrows shot to his hairline in embarrassed realization, and then he was pelting down the hallways to the control room.

The TARDIS core moved placidly, the ship spinning happily in the vortex. But the Doctor knew his playful ship too well.

"What are you doing?" he hissed, stabbing buttons. He had deduced by now that what he was hearing was Donna having a very private moment; a very private moment that was being broadcast through the TARDIS speakers.

_"oh, oh, ohhhhh"_

The Doctor discarded his jacket, really feeling quite flushed, while flipping a series of audio levers furiously.

His efforts were rewarded with a long, rich "_Mmmmmm_" in Donna's voice.

"This isn't funny," he scolded the TARDIS, fidgeting uncomfortably. "You stop it right now. Donna deserves her privacy and it isn't right for you to be doing this!"

_"ahhhhh, mmmmh..."_

The Doctor had traveled with quite a few humans. He knew what they got up to periodically. More than once he'd approached a bedroom, ready to invite a companion out for an outing, only to do an about-face and walk quickly away when he heard those little tell-tale sounds. Mostly he marveled, with more than a bit of self-righteous superiority, at the over-active human libido. And then he'd give them another hour before he came back to knock politely.

But those _sounds, _and coming from _Donna_, in that silken, lush tone; the idea of all of Donna's considerable energy, focused solely on finding pleasure...

The Doctor discarded his tie altogether and gave in to the urge to flick a few shirt buttons open. Boy, maybe the temperature settings were broken along with the sound system. It was positively _steaming_ in here.

No other option; it was time for the mallet. He pounded directly on a speaker, to no avail.

"I just don't understand why you're doing this!" he cried with another frustrated bang at the console. Giving up on that, he hurried around to pry up a maintenance panel. Even if Donna was currently in her room and didn't realize what the rest of the ship was broadcasting, there was no way he could allow this to continue.

_"just. like. that. yessss-"_

He wiped his brow with his forearm. Was he actually _sweating_? Perhaps if he tried to wire the...

"Wow, it sounds like I'm having a really good time."

The Doctor jumped up so quickly he suffered from a brief head-rush, then stared in horror as Donna entered the control room. Inexplicably, Donna's sensual moans continued to play through the ship, though Donna herself was standing there with a quirked brow and hands on her hips.

"Donna! But how...if you're here, then-"

Breathy sighs turned into another series of high pitched "_ah, ah, ah_"s.

"Make that a _fantastic_ time."

The Doctor speared both hands through his hair in utter confusion, while strategically maneuvering to the side to make sure he was decently covered by the console.

"_ngggggh...huuuuh...ah!_"

"Doctor? Why does your ship sound as though I'm auditioning for the lead in 'Donna does Dallas'?"

"I have no clue. I thought you were - that is, I, uh, assumed you were having p-p-private time."

"P-p-private time?" mocked Donna, over a soundtrack of strenuous gasps. "You mean a right proper wank, you big ninny?"

The Doctor would have blushed, but he was already so flushed it didn't really matter. "Er, yes."

"And your alien ship thought it would be some nice easy listening background music for you? What, you got bored of those horrible xylophone jingles you were listening to before? On your spare time do you like to listen to recordings of your companions wanking?"

The Doctor realized, to his dismay, that Donna was quite close to the mallet. _Quite_ close.

"No! Really, Donna. I don't know why! It's the TARDIS with some glitch and I've tried everything to make it stop. I don't - I don't have recordings of anyone doing...anything...like that and I thought the she was broadcasting you live and I was going to try to short-circuit the audio wires before you-"

"All right!" cut in Donna, raising a hand to cut off the blabber. "All right, I believe you, stop yammering and just figure out a way to make her stop playing it. I don't want to hear how I sound when I'm - Wait. Wait a second."

The Doctor looked up from where he was back to trying to pry up the panel. "What?"

"That's - that's me with _another person!"_

"WHAT?"

_"please, please...more"_

"How the _hell_ does your stupid ship have a recording of me _with another flippin' person!"_

"How do you know it's not just you?"

_"don't stop!"_

"How long has this been playing? Do you think I have the time for a bleedin' marathon_, _or that I beg _myself_ for  
>more? That's me with a partner! Listen, you can hear their breathing."<p>

Once pointed out, it was obvious - labored breathing in accompaniment to Donna's rising vocalizations.

The Doctor went awfully still. Scarily still. "Whom did you bring on-board, Donna?" he demanded with an eerie calm that sent a shiver down Donna's spine.

"No one!" shrieked Donna (while the 'thump thump thump' of a headboard reverberated through the ship). "As if I could! When have you ever even given me the chance to meet-"

_"oh, oh, right there! don't stop! don't stop!"_

Donna threw her hands up in aggravation. "How is it possible she'd have this? I want some answers, Sunshine!"

"I wonder if... Huh, well, the TARDIS is psychic, perhaps she's taken the memory of a previous encounter. Though I still don't know why she would play it," he theorized, disgruntled.

_"there...right there...godsss"_

"I think I'd remember if I ever had a night quite like what I'm hearing."

The Doctor paused in the midst of crossly kicking the abandoned floor panel. "You mean you don't remember this?"

"_...more...harder...faster..."_

"Not usually quite this vocal, no," she stated flatly.

_"oh god, I'm going to..."_

The Doctor flipped open the last few remaining shirt buttons in a quest for air. He'd give a regeneration for a cool drink of water right about now.

"Then the only other explanation is that it's a future encounter. The TARDIS contains all of time and space, after all. Maybe a glitch in the TARDIS' time matrix, crossed with a mnemonic auditory echo."

"Well, that's plain barmy. Are you telling me the TARDIS is playing me and some bloke getting it on in the future? Who'll the lucky bastar- "

_"OOH...nnnnnghhhh...DONNA!"_

That had been a man's voice. For the first time, beside the heavy breathing, a very _distinct_... Donna and the Doctor froze, eyes wide in shock.

"That was- That was-" stuttered Donna.

_"AHHHHHH! Doctor!"_

Both the Doctor and Donna clapped hands to their respective mouths in a mirrored moment of embarrassed disbelief.

"You know," finally croaked the Doctor. "I could be wrong. In fact, I'm probably wrong. Completely, utterly mistaken in every way. Doesn't happen often - or at all, really - but there's a first time for everything and maybe I..." he trailed off, staring beseechingly at Donna as twin sighs of fulfillment echoed through the control room.

"April fools," blurted out Donna. "TARDIS is joking. It's April fools somewhere in time and space right now, right? _Right_?"

"Er, right."

Donna nibbled on her lower lip nervously, and flushed scarlet when she caught the Doctor staring. "Okay, right, okay... I'm going to go...um...there's this thing I need to be doing."

"Yes, me too. That thing needs to be fixed with that...other thing that...is broken."

They slowly edged away from each other as if a live hand-grenade had been placed between them. Then both abandoned all sense of pride, turned tail and ran in opposite directions.

The TARDIS hummed serenely to herself and dimmed the lights in the empty control room. And there was no further whining about being bored.

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><p><em>continued...<br>What is the Tardis' next move? Let's find out!_


	2. No Time for TV

**No Time for TV**  
>Author: Lilac Summers<br>Pairing: Ten/Donna, TARDIS  
>Rating: M, naughtiness more than a bit implied, language<br>Category: Humor verging on crack, PWP

A/N: Little Apirl 1 gift! Sequel to "No Time for Tedium." Read that first or this one won't make sense! Beware, this verges on crack.

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><p>It had been two weeks of blushing for no apparent reason, of skittering away from each other every time the TARDIS bumped them around (which was very, very often). Fourteen days of Donna ignoring his outstretched hand when he reached for hers, and of stammering goodnights when Donna headed to bed.<p>

But finally things were settling back down, under the pretense that the TARDIS must have been playing some colossal joke. Donna had argued loudly and strenuously over and over that that's all the soundtrack of the Doctor and Donna having loud, crazy, (satisfying) sex could have possibly been.

When the Doctor queried (quite reasonably, he thought) why the TARDIS would go to such lengths to manufacture a fake recording in order to embarrass them, Donna had happily launched into a numeration of his many faults: He was messy. He was constantly whacking his poor ship for no apparent reason. He ate jam with his fingers and never shut the hell up. After she went into such minutiae as "you leave lint in the drier, and haven't set out a welcome mat to keep people from tracking dirt all over the floor", the Doctor agreed with her just to end the argument.

Her point was that he must have driven the TARDIS absolutely barmy by now. And if the TARDIS played a little joke on him that happened to also embarrass the hell out of Donna, well, she was willing to forgive in the face of sisterly solidarity. So there.

Regardless, the TARDIS was staying mum on the matter, continuing her path through the universe as though that little aural incident hadn't thrown her passengers into a tizzy.

But who knew, maybe there was something to Donna's theory. Because in what seemed an apology, when Donna had commented that she was in the mood for a film, the TARDIS had supplied them with a never-before seen media room containing a huge flat-screened television set in a cozy room with dim lighting and a deep, sinfully comfortable couch upholstered in posh purple velvet.

The Doctor was looking forward to it. An evening with a film and his best mate, no more embarrassed tension between them, the strange event with the TARDIS' speakers finally behind them, never to be spoken of again.

And so they settled on the couch, Donna bringing a huge bowl of popcorn with her. She sat on one end, taking no time in resting her feet on his lap, as was her wont, and he inwardly beamed at display of carefree affection.

"What're we watching?" asked Donna around a mouthful of popcorn.

The Doctor studied the complicated remote control to the huge new television, with its myriad tiny buttons, over the rim of his specs. "Not sure yet, what are you in the mood for? Horror? I think we've got the 125th _Friday the 13th_ on here. Or..._How to Train Your Pet Slitheen_? Children's movie, that. Or a classic masterpiece, like _Showgirls_?"

"Meh, surprise me."

"Ooooh, here's a good one. _Pride and Prejudice..."_

"Ah, always loved that one! The BBC production or the-"

"_..In Space."_

"Wait. _Pride and Prejudice in Space _did you say? How is that even possible; doesn't that defeat the purpose of a period film?"

"Weeeell, it's the 78th remake, taking place on the space colony that formed New New Great Britain. For people from the 34th century, that's pretty old-school," he reasoned.

"Okay, fine, whatever. Just play it already and stop jabbering before you ruin the plot."

"_Ruin the plot? _How can I ruin the plot of a book you've read a million times, just because they're on the space colony of New New Great Britain and, okay, well, Lizzy is not technically hum-"

"SHHHH!" commanded Donna, fishing out the un-popped kernels from her bowl of popcorn and hurling them at his forehead like tiny missles. "DON'T RUIN IT!"

"All right! All right!" cried the Doctor, dodging airborne maize. In self-defense, he quickly tapped the 'play' button. Donna quit her attack and smugly settled into her corner, colorful pedicured toes wriggling victoriously on the Doctor's lap as the lights automatically dimmed in the room and the screen winked into life.

Straight into a close up of man's bare bum, muscles clenching delightfully as he pumped enthusiastically into the woman beneath him.

"Woah!" cried Donna, sitting upright in shock and sending popcorn flying. "Holy porn popsicle, Batman! Did you press the wrong button on the remote? You better have, Martian, because if you think I'm going to watch some perverted alien movi-"

"No, no," said the Doctor, peering closer at the scrolling readout on the remote. "Says right here, it's playing _Pride and Prejudice in Space. _Mind, I don't remember there being a love scene, but it has been several decades since I last saw it."

"'Love scene' you say? That ain't a love scene, that's straight-out x-rated shagging."

"Oh Donna," sighed Doctor, indulgent, in that 'ooh, aren't you 21st century humans precious' tone of voice she hated. "This was filmed in the year 3368. Their definition of risque differs quite a bit more from yours."

Donna forced herself to relax back in her seat. If _he _was going to be so blase about it, she'd be damned at acting like a cringing prude. "Just saying - they barely held hands in the book..."

"And by the time they made the movies, they had the characters end with a kiss. Consider this the 34th century equivalent of a kiss."

"If you say so."

"I do. 'Course," muttered the Doctor, brow crinkling in thought, "why the movie would _start _with a love scene, I don't really understand. I don't remember this part at all."

"Uh-huh," mumbled Donna, distracted now by the naked buttocks on the screen. It was a rather fabulous backside, she admitted, and the _stamina! _She idly wished the camera would pan out, so she could see the rest of the man. With perfect timing, the camera pulled back. Oh, the rest of the back of him wasn't bad either! Nice broad shoulders tapering down to a trim waist. "Way to go, Darcy!" encouraged Donna.

The Doctor reached over, snagged a handful of popcorn and stuffed it in his mouth. It niggled at him that he couldn't remember this at all. "You think it's Darcy?" The actor was slim and athletic, with great hair, the Doctor noted absently.

"Gonna assume," responded Donna. "Is that supposed to be Lizzy under him?"

"I honestly don't know," he murmured, just as the actress raised long, pale legs to wrap around Darcy's waist.

"Oh look!" cried Donna, delighted. "She has the same toe nail polish as me! Never let it be said I'm not fashion-forward!" she crowed, very pleased with herself. And Nerys had said no one in their right mind would wear that shade of orange...Well, if only she knew that it would be the height of fashion in the 34th century, wouldn't that put her in her place! Donna grabbed another handful of popcorn, triumphant.

The Doctor scrutinized the narrow coral-tipped feet on screen, then slowly looked down at Donna's feet on his lap. And warily looked back at the screen. Then at the ones on his lap. And then he took a closer look at the actor's wild hair.

He suddenly had a really, really bad feeling about this.

"Only," Donna was saying, "I don't think the sound's on. And how long is this scene, anyway?"

"Uh..." the Doctor hemmed, his hearts thudding in his ears as he scanned the remote settings once more. _Pride and Prejudice in Space _scrolled the display clearly.

Up on the screen, the camera began to zoom out and swivel perspective.

"Hey, turn it up, will you?"

The camera was traveling around the couple, slowly, ever so slowly. The Doctor spied a dainty female hand fiercely clutching at the man's straining bicep, before the camera continued leisurely to pan sideways, revealing a feminine forearm, dusted with cinnamon freckles...

"Doctor did you hear me? Turn it up, yeah?"

"Errr...I'm trying," the Doctor lied, dragging his attention back to the enormous remote in his hand and searching furiously for a STOP button. "I think the film is faulty, Donna," he squeaked, voice very loud and high to his ears. "It's better if we just choose another."

Ah ha! There it was! He stabbed the STOP button viciously.

The sound boomed on.

Heavy breathing and stifled groans assaulted their ears.

"Oh, not so loud!"

The Doctor stared at the control, furiously pounding the STOP button again. The sound turned down to manageable levels.

"Thanks, that's perfect."

He turned very cautiously to stare at Donna, who stuffed another handful of popcorn in her mouth and continued to watch the screen intently. "Huh, the actress is very freckly," she remarked. "Good to know they aren't shunned in the future!"

He tore his gaze away from her, eyes almost unwillingly drawn back to the screen. The camera was lovingly traveling over the female actress' body now, at an artsy angle. The length of an upraised thigh, wrapped around the actor's flank, both gleaming with sweat. Then to the jut of hipbone dissolving into the gentle curve of abdomen. Finally inching up to magnificent breasts with a coy flash of dusky nipples, playing peek-a-boo with a long strand of flaming red hair.

The Doctor closed his eyes, swallowing thickly. With little hope, he pointed the remote at the screen and pressed the big red OFF button. Nothing happened, of course.

The heavy breathing onscreen continued, joined now by fluttery "ah's" and urgent vocalizations that sounded distressingly familiar. Donna had gone ominously quiet beside him, the sound of crunching popcorn completely absent.

"Doctor," she called quietly.

"Yes, Donna?"

"That's me, isn't it."

"Yes, Donna."

"And that's..."

He cleared his throat, noisily. "Yes, I believe it is."

He slit one eye open and, on cue, the camera settled in its journey, perfectly framing Donna with her head thrown back, hair spread like a halo around the pillow with long strands caressing her shoulders and chest - and himself, bending forward to bury his face at her throat.

The Donna beside him radiated waves of embarrassed fury. "Turn it off," she commanded through gritted teeth.

"Can't, already tried," he whispered. He wordlessly held out the gargantuan remote to her, refusing to look over.

She snatched it from his hand, then came the sound of those 100-words-per-minute fingers jabbing every conceivable button configuration in record time.

The screen and sound stayed on, but she somehow managed to add a sexy R&B soundtrack to the movie, light heretofore unseen candles, and convert the couch into a bed.

She squawked as the sofa shifted beneath her, jumping to her feet, eyes wide as she noticed the changes to the room. The Doctor had simply lifted his feet from the floor when the couch shifted, and was now studiously staring off into a corner, trying mightily to ignore what onscreen!Donna was doing to onscreen!Doctor.

Maybe if he didn't say anything, she wouldn't kill him.

"WHAT THE HELL IS THIS?" she screamed at him.

"Don't know," he fibbed, because he had a pretty good idea that the TARDIS had run out of patience with the both of them. "Ask the TARDIS," he suggested, happily willing to place blame where it was due.

"I can't believe you!" she shouted at the ceiling. "The fake recording was bad enough, but this has gone too far! I don't care that it's April fools somewhere in the universe today, you need a hobby! I mean, him I understand, but what'd I ever do to you? You should be ashamed of yourself, missy, spending your time making up fake videos!" she ranted, shaking her fist at the TARDIS.

"It's not a-" began the Doctor, before remembering his life was in imminent danger and snapping his mouth shut.

"Not a what?" Donna rounded on him, stunning in her fury.

"N-nothing. Forget it."

"Not. A. What. Martian?"

Well, in for a penny... "Not a fake video."

"Of course it is," she said flatly.

He risked a quick glance her way. "Um, but it isn't. Neither was the sound recording. The TARDIS can replicate, but she can't invent. Tried to tell you before."

"We agreed the sound recording was a joke!" she seethed.

"You agreed..." he mumbled sulkily.

"You can't be insinuating that that-" she flung an arm out to the television, and on cue the volume turned up so that joint moaning filled the room. Drawn by the sound, they both turned to look at the screen.

And froze.

And turned their heads slightly sideways to try to resolve what it was that they were seeing quite so close up.

The image clicked in the Doctor's brain and he made a tiny choked sound as his respiratory bypass kicked in. Donna was making worrying gasping noises, without the benefit of a bypass to supply oxygen since the shock had stopped her breathing.

"Don't look!" she hissed at the Doctor with the little breath she had.

"But...I...can't look...away," he admitted to her, dazed as he watched the show and onscreen!Donna's superb jaw muscle control.

Neither could Donna, truthfully, because she had never really thought about how many useful applications that long tongue of his had, and how handy that respiratory bypass could be.

"Then close your damn ey-" she trailed off, sidetracked as onscreen!Doctor performed a tongue maneuver that would have better served to tie cherry stems into knots.

And somehow, before they knew it, they were sitting side-by-side, eyes glued on the acrobatic shenanigans onscreen.

The Doctor was breathing deeply through his nose, and flushed red from throat to hairline. Donna squirmed uneasily at his side, undoing the top buttons of her blouse as her temperature skyrocketed.

"You're very...very...bendy," he told her, faintly.

"Yoga," she responded, weakly. "You're, uh, er...energetic." _Insatiable _was the word she was looking for.

"Running. Two-hearts," he breathed out.

They cast each other a furtive side-glance.

Then as one they attacked, snogging each other senseless until they were splayed out over the couch-turned-bed in a rumpled heap of half-undone clothing, his hand sliding past her jeans and into her knickers, hers gripping the firm bum she'd been watching onscreen all evening.

"So...what is...that video...if not a...joke?" she panted, tongue tracing his jugular.

"Ahhhhhh...it's a...it's a...visual mne-mne-mnemonic project..oh..projection," he gasped, writhing against her.

"It's...already..._oh god do that again, yes! that thing!..._it's already happened?"

The Doctor released the nipple in his mouth long enough to gather a breath. "In the future, yes." He returned to laving the tight peak, enraptured. He'd been imagining doing this since he first spied that dusky nipple on the tv. Since before then, to be honest.

Donna's hands were fumbling at his trousers, pushing them down his hips and taking hold of him in an impressive display of multi-tasking. His moan went up a few octaves.

"So if we...if we..._holy fucking christ, Doctor!_" She pulsed, hot and slick, around his fingers, internal muscles squeezing hard. "If we don't...do this...we cause...ah!...a paradox?"

He was pulling his hand out of knickers to tear her clothing off altogether. "Yes. Worlds ending. Universes exploding."

She returned the favor, pantsing him and pushing him down on his back. Then she clambered over him to settle into the position that had been driving her crazy since she'd seen it demonstrated. "We're just saving the world, then," she reasoned, and took him in her mouth in one go.

"_By Rassilon's garters! Oh...oh Donna_...yes..." he cried, reaching up to wrap his arms around the smooth thighs by his head. "The... the whole universe, really!" he gasped. And he pulled her down to his waiting tongue.

Several heat-filled minutes later, Donna was coming up for air. "But...but...I don't think we're in this room...in the v-video," she pointed out.

The Doctor hummed in thought beneath her, making Donna shriek as the vibrations played over very sensitive parts. She bit his thigh in retaliation.

Bucking against her, the Doctor tore his mouth away long enough to reason. "Guess we'll...have to...have to...keep trying until we get it exactly right." His eyes rolled back as Donna did something particularly creative with her mouth. "Y- y'know...ah!... for the sake of the... nnngh! ... universe!"

"For...th'...ooooooooh!...universe!" panted Donna in agreement, and went back to the strenuous task of being a hero. Because someone had to do it.

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><p>So the universe was saved once again.<p>

Or the TARDIS gained a hobby.

One or the other. Maybe both.

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><p><em>To be continued...with some guest appearances.<em>

What am I doing with my life?


	3. No Time for Trespassers

**No Time for Trespassers**  
>Author: Lilac Summers (lilsum4)<br>Fandom: Doctor Who  
>Pairing: TenDonna  
>Rating: R for implied naughtiness<br>Category: Humor, fluff

A/N: And this completes the "No Time" series...which was supposed to be a oneshot anyway, so looks, 3 for 1!

* * *

><p>Martha was enjoying a leisurely walk through Central Park, heading back to work after lunch. She'd taken to New York a lot more than she thought she would, and the massive park with its walkways and jogging trails appealed to her.<p>

And then, there, out of the corner of her eye, a shade of blue she would recognize anywhere.

She froze, disbelieving, then smiled like a child at Christmas and pelted across the green to the police box.

Her key - a dented old thing that nevertheless never left her person - was in her hand in a heartbeat, fitting into the old Yale lock. She turned the key, pushed and...nothing.

Stupid door, always sticking. She pushed more forcefully and when it didn't budge she abandoned any attempt at dignity and began to pound on the door, yelling, "Doctor! Hey, Doctor, open up!"

There was a lag. Martha imagined the Doctor and/or Donna making their way through labyrinthine corridors, but finally she heard scrambling behind the door, and a hearty pull opened it wide.

"Martha! What a completely unexpected surprise!" the Doctor boomed at her in a not-quite-natural pitch.

"But you did show up in my backyard, so to speak, so I'm assuming you came to see me!" she laughed, moving forward for the expected hug.

He returned the embrace awkwardly, and not completely enthusiastically. Martha pulled back, thrown by his reticence, and took a better look at him.

The Doctor was uncharacteristically ruffled, in shirtsleeves and with tie askew. His hair stood on end more so than usual, and his lips glistened with juice.

Martha rolled her eyes. He had such horrible table manners! You'd think a 900+ year-old Time Lord would be a bit neater. "Were you eating? Did I interrupt?" she asked, and the Doctor flushed bright red.

"Errr...ah...in a matter of speaking. Why do you ask?"

"You have a little-" Martha motioned towards her lips and chin in the universal sign of 'something on your face.'

To Martha's bafflement, the Doctor's eyes grew wide and he hurriedly wiped his mouth on his sleeve. It was funny, since he'd never seemed embarrassed by his messy eating habits before.

She tried to put him at ease by patting his arm fondly. "No worries, Doctor. I'm familiar with your messiness - no need to stand on ceremony now. I've seen worse."

She entered and spied Donna sitting primly on the jump seat (and was the jump seat slightly larger than she remembered?), smoothing a wrinkled skirt over her thighs.

"Donna!" Martha danced over to give Donna a tight hug before plonking herself down beside her on the elongated jump seat. "Sorry I barged in during lunch."

Donna shot her a confused look. "We weren't having lunch," she said slowly.

"Oh, but, the Doctor said I interrupted his meal."

Donna, for no reason Martha could figure, turned a rather becoming shade of pink, eyes sliding nervously to the Doctor. "Oh! Oh, yes, but, umm, only he was eating."

Martha nodded wisely, knowing well the Doctor's penchant for stuffing his face. It was absolutely maddening, as a woman trying to keep her figure, to be around a man who constantly ate and never gained an ounce. "Well, his neatness hasn't improved, by the looks of it. Got it all over his face. What was it this time, Doctor, more bananas?"

The Doctor shuffled uncertainly, as if caught between wanting to come closer to them and needing to have the console between them. "No, actually. Quite the opposite of bananas."

Martha tilted her head in intrigued thought. "What's the opposite of a banana?"

The Doctor was opening his mouth to respond when Donna started coughing loudly. Martha patted Donna's back helpfully, but was still interested enough to push the subject. "No, seriously, there's an opposite of bananas? What is it? Mango? Pear?"

The Doctor pulled such a disgusted face it was comical. "Urgh, no! No pears! It's a..well, it's a rare fruit."

His face took on a dreamy look, and Martha figured he must really love the stuff, whatever it was. Perhaps even more than bananas!

"Sweet and juicy and utterly delicious," the Doctor rhapsodized, as Donna made an odd choked noise beside Martha.

"Doctor..." warned Donna.

Martha couldn't for the life of her figure out why Donna sounded vexed at the Doctor, other than to think perhaps Donna wasn't as big a fan. "You don't like it, Donna?"

With both the Doctor and Martha looking at her curiously, Donna colored brightly once more and stammered out, "More of a banana girl, myself."

Martha turned back to the Doctor to catch him beaming at Donna with a mysterious twinkle in his eye that was partly humor and partly something warm she couldn't readily identify. "But you, Doctor, it's become your new favorite?"

"Oh, absolutely. Can't go a day without it. Breakfast or lunch or dinner. Anytime, really. The urge hits at the most inopportune moments, sometimes, and drives me - and by extension, Donna - to distraction."

"Now I'm curious. Got any left you'd care to share?" ventured Martha.

The Doctor looked at her gravely, before shaking his head decisively even as Donna dropped her head in her hands with a groan. "I consider myself a modern man, Martha, but I must insist that I simply cannot share. I'm rather possessive about it."

"Oh, god, Martha," began Donna, seemingly dying of mortification.

"Nah, don't worry about it, Donna. I'm well used to the Doctor's strange obsession with his food. And not that I'm not fascinated by what could possibly have become your new snack-time favorite, but I'm sure you didn't come to New York just to tell me about that, Doctor."

The Doctor made a little distracted noise, tearing his gaze away from a still-blushing Donna to focus on Martha. "Oh, is that where we are?"

With raised eyebrows, Martha strung out a disbelieving, "Yeeeees. Didn't you know?"

"Ah." The Doctor cast a baleful look at the ceiling. "I didn't actually set a destination. The TARDIS must have wanted to stop by and ... say hi."

"Oh. So _you_ didn't want to stop by and say 'hi', the TARDIS did. That's...flattering, I suppose." Her tone of voice made it clear that it was anything but.

Realizing his mistake, the Doctor stumbled over his words in a rush to correct himself. "Not that I'm not delighted to say 'hi', however we got here! Brilliant Martha Jones, hello, it's always a joy to see you! Why just the other day I was saying 'Donna, you know what we should do? Visit Martha Jones!' Right, Donna? Right?"

Donna, seeing Martha's brows furrowing in growing insult as the Doctor blabbered on, made a quick zipping motion with her fingers that had the Doctor snapping his mouth shut. "Ignore the jabbering idiot in the room, Martha. Last few trips have been nonstop running, so I demanded some time doing nothing. If we haven't made the rounds by your neighborhood it's my fault. No doubt the TARDIS knew some time with friends would be better than floating around alone." She smiled sincerely at Martha until the lingering hurt cleared from Martha's gaze.

"Yeah, I know how it can get," admitted Martha with little pat to Donna's hand that indicated they were forgiven. "How about I let you guys relax a bit, then. I'm late for work anyway. But we can get together later at my favorite place for dinner and _you_," she whipped a look at the Doctor, "are paying. Be assured it will be _terribly_ expensive."

She stood, straightened her dark slacks, and air kissed Donna's cheeks before sauntering toward the TARDIS doors. "Eight p.m. sharp, Doctor! And it may help your cause if you bring along some of that fruit you were talking about, to share." With a friendly wave, she headed out the front door.

"Not sharing!" the Doctor called out after her, just as the TARDIS door clicked closed. The TARDIS twittered around them, catching the Doctor's attention.

"YOU are a bad girl!" he scolded the console. "Why did you land here, anyway? I specifically set us into the vortex. You can't go around choosing destinatio-"

"What was that all about?!" Donna's shout interrupted the Doctor's one-sided conversation with the TARDIS, as did the hurled shoe that came his way where the Doctor was peering at the location settings.

The Doctor looked up just in time to dodge. "What? What'd I do?"

"What did you _do_? Embarrassed me to pieces, for one!"

"How'd I do that?" he scratched his head in contemplation.

"Comparing my bits to...to...to _fruit_? What, did you think it was all some great uncrackable code you were speaking in?!" she seethed.

"Now, Donna. S'not my fault if Martha walked in smack dab in the middle of my 'meal'," he sauntered over wearing a ridiculous leer. Falling to his knees before her, his fingers trailed past her knees to start inching her skirt up. For all her temper, he noted that Donna made no attempt to stop the inexorable hitching of her skirt.

"You practically spelled it out in fancy neon lettering. 'Donna and the Doctor, shagging!'" She splayed out her fingers in a mimicry of flashing lights.

The Doctor, who had been more intent on his goal of going back to 'lunch' than putting much stock in Donna's ire, suddenly paused with his hands warm upon her thighs. He tilted his head up to look at her. "Would that be so bad, if she knew?" he asked quietly.

"Well, if she knows, then _everybody_ knows," Donna exclaimed.

"...And?" he bit out.

"A-and," stuttered Donna, unnerved by the sudden hard tone of his voice. "And there's no need for people to think that you and I...me and you...Umm, paradox, remember! We're only doing this because of a paradox thingy 'cos it's already happened so we have to make sure it happens so..." She sounded like an idiot, and she knew it, so she ended on a final, "Paradox."

The Doctor abruptly wrapped his arms around her knees and pulled her forward; she slid off the slick, worn leather to land with a surprised yelp, straddling his lap.

"I don't recall the video the TARDIS played showing us engaging quite so often or so vigorously in sexual escapades in the control room," he pointed out, holding on tight as she tried to squirm away. "In fact, we were quite obviously _not_ in the control room."

"But.."

"Or in the kitchen, the gardens, the library," he continued.

"But-"

"Or the observatory, laundry room, shower, hallways..."

"But!"

"Nor the bouncy ball room or even the tangerine beaches of the seventh moon of Hur!"

"Oi!" snapped Donna, more embarrassed than angry now. She opened her mouth for a long objection of how it certainly wasn't _her_ fault the TARDIS had shown them a future sexual encounter in some unknown location. And if they happened to shag all over the place like oversexed rabbits, surely it was solely for the good cause of covering all their bases and saving the Universe.

But the words died as she saw the seriousness in the Doctor's eyes. She stopped squirming and proceeded to pluck nervously at his crumpled shirt collar, instead.

"Won't you admit that we're not doing this because of any efforts on the TARDIS' part? But because I want to? And that maybe you want me, too?" inquired the Doctor softly to the top of her bent head.

She skewed her gaze away, feeling more exposed by this candid conversation than by anything they'd ever done in the bedroom. "You said 'just mates,'" she whispered, half accusingly.

"I think we dispensed with the 'just' quite a while back. We can't go back to that."

She chanced a quick glance his way, then offered, "If we knew for sure that the paradox was averted, we could -"

"No, you don't understand. I've got you now and I _won't_ go back to that, Donna."

There was a long beat of heavy silence as Donna processed that comment and all the implications that went with it. She spread her hands carefully over his hearts, feeling them beat furiously.

Donna looked up at him through ginger eyelashes. "You won't?"

"Nope. Not giving up my favorite fruit for anything in the world, ever."

Her lips tilted in a smile, growing bolder. "Don't I get a say in the matter?"

It was the Doctor's turn to pluck at the skirt of her dress nervously. "I thought...I thought you liked m-" he gulped loudly, faltering as he suddenly reached his honesty quota and lost his nerve, "uh...bananas."

Donna's smile was turning sly - his favorite, favorite kind of smile. "Why yes," she drawled. "I _love_..." the smile went wicked at his sharp, indrawn breath,"...bananas."

The Doctor's deep gaze was a strange mix of appreciation and shyness. "And I love..."

Donna cut the rest of that sentence off by tipping him over and attacking his mouth with hers, since she had a good idea how the sentence ended, anyway. And she hadn't had a chance to finish her own "meal," either.

* * *

><p>Many hours later, the Doctor and Donna were a sweaty tangle of limbs on the console floor. The TARDIS, in exceptionally good humor, had strategically added padding to the normally rough floor. Not that they noticed, poor simple, oblivious humanoids. No doubt she'd be responsible for keeping an eye on the clock, too, because 8 p.m. wasn't that far off, after all.<p>

Donna was idly tracing stick figures onto his chest when the Doctor stirred.

"Are we," the Doctor fidgeted with a strand of ginger hair. "Umm, can we be a couple, then?"

Donna grinned against the pale skin of his shoulder. "Guess so."

"And we don't have to keep this a secret anymore?"

Donna took a deep breath, marshaling courage. "Guess not. But let's not dive in tonight, after that mess you made with Martha. Let's wait until we get back to Cardiff."

The Doctor joyfully snuggled her under his chin, beaming. They lay quiet a while longer.

"The fourth guestroom on level Smurple of the TARDIS," he said suddenly, apropos to nothing.

Donna propped her head on his chest. "What? What about it? And what's Smurple?"

"Smurf Purple."

"Smurfs are blue," she pointed out.

"Not drowned Smurfs," he returned, logically.

Donna rolled her eyes. "Nevermind. What's on level Smurple?"

"In the video the TARDIS showed us, the guestroom, that's where we were," he explained, guilty color creeping slowly up his neck. "There's very specific angles in that room."

Donna's eyes were narrowing into a suspicious glare.

"I'd recognize it anywhere," he continued.

"So you're telling me that you've known, since the moment the TARDIS showed us that video weeks ago, where that room was," clarified Donna in a dangerous voice.

"Yep."

"We could have 'averted a paradox apocalypse,' as you claimed, right off the bat."

"Yep."

"You weasel!" she cried.

"Yep."

Donna raised a hand for what might very well be a slap to end all slaps...and then quite unexpectedly seemed to deflate, resting her chin back on his chest, instead. "Thank you," she said, softly.

"My pleasure, entirely," he said with a goofy grin.

* * *

><p><strong>Epilogue<strong>

The pair exited the TARDIS within Torchwood, Donna in the lead.

Jack glanced up from where he tapped away at a laptop, took one look and broke into a grin. "Oh ho! Been sexin' up the TARDIS have you?"

Donna and the Doctor stumbled to a halt. The Doctor opened and closed his mouth a few times, then threw his hands in the air and did an about turn, marching back into the TARDIS while hauling Donna in after him.

She turned her head just in time to catch Jack's eye again. "How could you possibly...?"

But the Doctor was already slamming the door, and all she heard back was Jack's cheery call of, "Call me if you're ever up for a threesome!"

* * *

><strong>The end<strong>

Hope you enjoyed it this mindless bit of fun. Let me know if you did!


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